


A Season

by kurage_hime



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Coming of Age, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Outdoor Sex, Sex Pollen, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-11-28 20:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18213059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurage_hime/pseuds/kurage_hime
Summary: A Season has come to the Greenwood.King Thranduil and his Sindar kindred have grown forgetful of the coming of the Seasons, and Tauriel is a ward of the throne. But Tauriel is also a Silvan Elf, and the Silvan Elves still remember. Thus does she know what this new Season portends – and she knows of the secret, sacred rite which accompanies its arrival.





	A Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



> I absolutely loved your prompts for this. Hope you enjoy!

A Season has come to the Greenwood.

King Thranduil and his Sindar kindred have grown forgetful of the coming of the Seasons, and Tauriel is a ward of the throne. But Tauriel is also a Silvan Elf, and the Silvan Elves still remember. Thus does she know what this new Season portends – and she knows of the secret, sacred rite which accompanies its arrival.

There is a sunlit glade deep in the Greenwood, ringed by ancient oak trees, where elf-women whose bodies are open to life go for one single day of the Season. It is well-hidden, and no roads can be taken to travel to it. The location is passed in whispers from the mouths of mothers, aunts, and elder sisters to the ears of daughters, nieces, and younger sisters. Their men know nothing of this place, and their presence in it would not be welcomed.

Tauriel is of age this Season, her body newly flowered, and so it is with excitement and anticipation that she makes her pilgrimage to the glade to participate for the first time in the sacred rite of the Season.

She may be tardy; others have arrived before her. She can hear their giggles and moans and soft cries even before she enters the glade, and upon entering the glade, she is treated to a sight to behold: elf-women, thirty or more, among the grasses and wildflowers, naked and in the throes of wanton pleasure.

Some of the elf-women lie alone, their eyes closed and their legs open, lost in the sensuousness of the touch of their own hands. Others are in pairs, kissing, twined around each other, rubbing and stroking. And still others are in groups of three or more, tangles of long locks and smooth flesh and flailing limbs that Tauriel cannot fully unwind in her mind.

The sight is arousing, of course, and already she can feel the spores of the Season – shed from a red and white fungus growing at the feet of the glade’s ancient oak trees, saturating the air – settling into the space behind her nostrils. The spores make her feel lightheaded, almost dizzy, but also more _awake_ , more attuned to the inevitability of what it about to happen to her.

Tauriel realizes then that she has shed all of her clothing. She doesn’t remember doing it, but now she is as naked as the rest of the elf-women…and aching with desire. She sinks to the ground, the new growth beneath her like a bird’s nest or an infant’s cradle, and she begins to touch herself. Breasts first, firm and round and fitted to her hands like autumn apples, and the flat, heaving plane of her belly. After that, further down to the thatch of ginger pubic hair, and what it conceals, heart-shaped, pulsing, and glistening with wetness.

Her eyes drift shut, and she moans as she rubs sweet circles around her clitoris with her thumb. She is already close. The touch of her own hands is familiar to her, but this has never felt so immediate, so intense—

“Will you share the Season with me?”

Tauriel blinks and looks in the direction of the voice. An elf-maid with mahogany ringlets kneels beside her. She holds one of the red and white fungi, laying lengthwise in the palms of her outstretched hands. This is both an offer and a proposition at once – and it is one that Tauriel is eager to accept.

“I will,” she replies with a happy smile. Nay, she would not have refused upon pain of death.

The elf-maid with the mahogany ringlets holds the red and white fungus up to Tauriel’s lips. Obligingly, she sticks her tongue out, tasting its bright crimson cap and the gills beneath it from which the spores are shed. The texture is slicker than satin, and the taste is musky – like a male’s, they say, like his rampant male member – and with this powerful a dose, the spores affect Tauriel strongly. She feels like she is floating in a warm pool of erotic bliss.

The elf-maid with the mahogany ringlets licks the fungus herself quickly before tossing it carelessly aside and seizing Tauriel’s mouth with her own in a hot and heavy kiss. Ah, the kiss is sweet! Flavored by the spores and by something uniquely feminine as well, like honeysuckle and sage. The elf-maid wraps her arms around Tauriel’s shoulders and clasps her neck, fingers buried in Tauriel’s unbound hair.

With a long-breathed sigh, they fall back together, the elf-maid with the mahogany ringlets on top and Tauriel below, savoring the weight of the body of her newfound partner, of their breasts with their sensitive, peaked nipples crushed together. The elf-maid’s legs straddle Tauriel’s thigh, and she grinds her slick warmth into Tauriel’s flesh, her rhythm slow and strong until she peaks, pulsing and gushing fluid.

Tauriel does not have time to acknowledge her partner’s completion, let alone complain that she herself has not been satisfied when a second elf-maid, this one with straight, raven hair and irises like amethysts, joins them. The communication is unspoken, but Tauriel signals her assent, and then the elf-maid with the raven hair is resting upon her elbows and suckling the swollen, unhooded nub of her clitoris and fingering her the place where life begins, pushing against the elastic inner walls in a clever manner that makes Tauriel toss and writhe and want to scream in ecstasy.

She can’t scream freely, though, because the elf-maid with the mahogany ringlets has never stopped kissing her. Indeed, she renews the attack on Tauriel’s mouth, tongue teasing tongue, fine white teeth nipping at her lips, and all the while the second mouth, belonging to the elf-maid with the raven hair, is kissing her down below…

It’s too much. The sensation is overwhelming. Her muscles lock, and her back arches, and she comes, harder and longer than she ever has in her life. Time seems to stand still. Her inner lips flutter like the beat of a butterfly’s wings, and fluid wells up uncontrollably, erupting, flowing out of her in thick, clear rivulets down her vulva, thighs, and buttocks, so much, more, more, and _more_ , until her spending has drenched the earth beneath her.

The two elf-maids are there for Tauriel through her first orgasm of the Season, helping her to prolong it until she thinks she might be slain by an agony of overstimulation, and then later, soothing her through the shakes and the aftershocks.

She is not done, though, not by a long shot.

A Season has come to the Greenwood, and Tauriel will continue to participate in this secret, sacred rite of elf-women until night falls.


End file.
